Lost Without You
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: After Daryl finds Carol in solitary, and she thinks they need to chat, her latest brush with death making her realize how futile it is to hide her feelings from him any longer Sometimes best intentions just don't go as planned.
1. Out of the Tombs

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. This is a work of pure fiction. All characters and events depicted in this story are entirely fictitious. Any similarity to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

 **Pairing:** Caryl

 **Rating:** M/E

 **Summary:** After Daryl finds Carol in solitary, and she thinks they need to chat, her latest brush with death making her realize how futile it is to hide her feelings from him any longer Sometimes best intentions just don't go as planned.

 **Tags:** *Carol/Daryl, *Spoilery for 02x06, *Smut, *A little angsty, *What my muse thinks should've happened, *This ship is killing me with feels!

 **A/N:** I had this one posted before as 'Solitary'. It has been re-edited and re-named for 'reasons'. Hope you enjoy it all over again. This chapter contains adult situations … reader discretion is advised :D

Lost Without You

By:

CharlotteAshmore

Chapter One: Out of the Tombs

Carol took a long draw from the water bottle Beth pressed on her as she held still for Hershel to finish his diagnosis. It was no more than her savior had told them all after he'd lain her on the cot in her cell and gone to fetch the others with news of her survival. She wondered briefly how many times Daryl would come to her rescue before it was all over and the Earth was ready to be reclaimed by the living.

When she'd drained the bottle, Beth pressed another upon her. "Beth, I'm fine," she said, offering the girl a fond smile before her eyes drifted once more to the open doorway where her friends had gathered. They were beginning to disperse one or two at a time, and she was disappointed Daryl hadn't lingered. The ghost of a smile on his lips had faded and he'd turned a bit sullen now that he'd seen to his duty. He must be more than a little tired of having to save her so often. She was getting better at defending herself, but sometimes she still felt like a burden to their people.

Hershel shook his head at his youngest daughter, but his words were for Carol. "You'll be weak for a few days, but with rest and lots of fluids, you'll be fine." She thanked him, and with a pat to her knee, he took his leave, hobbling as best as he could on the crutches they'd found in the infirmary.

She'd been devastated to learn of Lori's death. Yet another child would have to grow up without a mother, but she wouldn't lack for surrogate aunts and uncles. Neither child would have to grow up without love. There had already been so much loss. Being trapped in the lower bowels of the prison, thinking she was going to be the next to die … It just made her want to find Daryl all the more to thank him. But first, she needed to scrub the blood and grime from her thin frame. She couldn't go to him as she was, Carol thought in disgust.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Beth asked as she watched Carol reach for her pajamas and one of the fluffy towels she'd claimed on their last run before finding the prison and making it their home. "Dad said you'd be weak and –"

"I'm sure I'm strong enough for a shower, Beth," Carol chuckled wearily. "I'll be ok. Why don't you check on the baby and I'll meet you in the kitchen to help with dinner later?

The girl hesitated at the cell door, her brows drawn together worriedly. With only a handful of assurances, Beth nodded and disappeared through the cell door. She would be okay, and they all knew it. There was no reason for them to hover over her. Soon enough, albeit slowly – and with her towel and fresh clothes in hand – she made her way down the still unfamiliar corridors to the showers.

She pressed one hand to the cold plastered walls to steady herself, her stomach churning with unease. What she wouldn't give for some good antacid tablets. Just the thought of going to Daryl's perch at the top of the second-floor stairs for a late night chat was enough to send her belly fluttering with nerves. Perhaps Hershel had found some bicarbonate in the infirmary. _You're absolutely pathetic, Carol. It's a crush … nothing more_ , she tried to tell herself. It was, however, getting harder and harder to convince herself what she felt for Daryl was anything less than a true and abiding love. It wasn't hero worship, and it wasn't a simple fondness or sexual attraction.

Carol pressed her brow to the cool wall and groaned. Oh, there was definitely the attraction she'd felt for him, even from the beginning. It had been much more difficult to hide her attraction for him before Ed had died. _Jealous, abusive bastard!_ She still had nightmares about her years with him. It wasn't enough she had to deal with the walking nightmare outside their gates on a daily basis.

So lost in thought, she nearly tripped over the step into the showers. _Lovely, Carol … let's add a concussion and a scraped knee to your list of maladies today,_ she admonished herself. She tossed her little bundle of clothes onto the bench in the outer room and slipped the shoes off her feet, followed by the rather nasty pink top she literally had to peel from her torso. She took the towel she'd brought with her into the tiled room, so she'd have it handy. Could one hallucinate from a small bout of dehydration? Perhaps if she could have dug herself out of her quagmire of thoughts, she'd have realized before it was too late that the showers weren't empty, and … why - oh, _why_ \- did it have to be _him_?

Even her luck wasn't bad enough to have her standing there in her jeans and bra while the object of her affections was naked and wet not five feet in front of her, the spray creating a fine mist about his glorious body. Her azure eyes widened, her lips parted, and a small whimper rose up in her throat as she took in the scars marring his back. Oh, god, he couldn't catch her there. She knew how sensitive he was about his scars, having pried that knowledge out of him during one night of shared guard duty. She could only be grateful her late husband hadn't left more permanent and visible scars. Hers were etched deep into her soul. She wasn't the only one who suffered from a tortured past of abuse … both physically and mentally. Maybe if she was really quiet, she could slip out and he'd never know she'd been there.

"Carol! What're y' doin' in here?" he growled, turning just his head to glare at her over his shoulder. And then, he followed the direct line of her gaze and stiffened, every muscle in his body going taut with white hot rage. "Get out!"

He watched her pull the towel closer to her chest, saw the fear enter her eyes to replace the pity he'd seen there before. Well, he neither wanted nor needed her sympathy, damnit. He'd known she was there, had heard the unmistakable tread which belonged solely to her, even over the harsh spray of water beating at his head. He'd always been able to sense her presence, as attuned to her as he was.

She was closer now, disobeying his order to leave and disregarding his anger completely. He wasn't able to intimidate her as he could some of the others. Never her. Even the night Sophia had been found … god, he didn't want to think of that – EVER … she'd quietly accepted his rage, allowing him to vent all the anger and frustration pent up inside him. He'd had no comforting shoulder for her to cry on, no platitudes and false condolences … just rage. Rage he hadn't been able to save her daughter. Rage because he had cared, too, because Sophia had been a part of her.

Carol made him _feel_. She made him believe he could be better than what he was, and he hadn't been able to keep that one promise to her. Just another failure to be added to a long list, he thought miserably. Daryl pressed closer to the chest-high wall which ran down the center of the room, separating one side from the other. He could feel the heat from her body closing in on him, and he was choking on the panic beginning to set in. If she touched him …

Daryl couldn't see her any longer, not unless he turned his body to face her, and he couldn't do that right now … not with her small hands ghosting gently over the firm planes of his back. His mind screamed at him to run, to flee. The emotions rioting for dominance were too much, threatening to overwhelm him. He wasn't used to the softer, more vulnerable side of him, the part of him which he fought to keep hidden from everyone. Rage, pain, anger … that was easy, familiar. It was what he knew, what he used to protect himself.

Her fingertips pressed into the scar tissue on his back, and he flinched. Not from pain. He'd lost the sense of feeling in most of them long ago. No, this was different … soft, warm … _her_ touch. _Her_ touch on his wet skin as they trailed over his ruined back when just a handful of hours ago he'd believed her dead. The panic clenched his chest a little tighter.

"Daryl … " His name fell softly from her whispering lips, and his eyes slammed closed, fighting against the burning pain of unshed tears. He couldn't do this. He just didn't know how. Her slender arm wrapped about his waist, her thumb brushing back and forth over the indention of his navel. He grunted slightly, feeling his body respond to her touch. It was impossible _not_ to feel anything as she pressed her body to his, the scratch of lace against his flesh from her bra, the tiny buckle on her belt digging into his tailbone.

Carol's lips traced a thin scar high on his left shoulder blade where it made an 'x', making sure she didn't miss an inch. He shivered. He couldn't do this. He couldn't lay bare his soul, couldn't show her what a mess he was … had always been. Her left hand mapped a path up his side through the rivulets of water still streaming over him, tracing over some of the thin white scar tissue at his ribs before her palm came to rest over his heart. She rubbed her face between his shoulders as she held him to her, asking for nothing, simply offering everything she was to him.

He pulled his hand away from the wall, bringing it to hover over the one still resting against his belly before his fingers wrapped over her wrist. It was pleasure, the highest bliss to be in her arms, and yet torture at the same time. "Thank you." Two words, innocent in their own right … and the world fell away, sending him plunging into hell.

Daryl's hand slammed down on the lever, cutting the water, the other reaching for the towel he'd draped over the wall, wrapping the thin terry cloth about his hips before turning to glare at her, his sharp blue eyes narrowed. " _Thank you?"_ he sneered. "For what? Failing y' again? Leavin' y' as bait for the walkers that bastard lured in here to slaughter us all?!"

It was that night on the farm all over again in the space of a heartbeat. Carol crossed her arms over her chest, closing herself off from the rage building in his tone. Her eyes filled with tears, her lips compressed into a thin line, and he could practically taste her fear, but it wasn't enough to subdue the vicious, snarling beast rising in his chest. He paced angrily before her, hands tightly clenched at his side.

"You're being unreasonable. It's not your fault we lost someone else, and it certainly wasn't your idea to lock me in a cell in solitary. I did that all on my own," she mumbled, staring down at her feet.

"Y' died, Carol! Y' were gone!" She held her ground as he stepped closer, her wide blue eyes focused intently as his face closed the distance between them to peer at her. "I didn't even have a body to bury!" he hissed, his breath coming hard and fast, his lower lip trembling before he turned away from her. "I failed y'! I wasn't there to save y', just like – "

Carol's restraint broke and she reached for him, her hand slipping around his nape, pulling him to her even as he stiffened to resist her embrace. Her fingers slipped into his hair, dragging his head down to rest against her shoulder. "You couldn't have known. Never have you failed me, Daryl. Never," she whispered, her lips pressing softly to his temple. "I love you."

He jerked away from her as if she'd burned him. "Take it back!"

"No."

A rough hand pushed the hair out of his face where it steadily dripped into his eyes, ridding himself of the unwanted distraction. "No, y' take it back. Y' don't love me, Carol. I cain't … I cain't … No!" he shook his head adamantly. "I _lost_ y'. I lose everyone, and I just … I cain't do it again. Y' cain't love me only to leave me, woman," he growled. "I won't!"

Several pairs of running feet sounded in the corridor outside, and he was barely able to pull Carol around and shield her with his body before Glenn and Maggie rushed into the tiled room armed for any threat. "What the hell? A man cain't take a shower around here," he barked, disguising his distress behind his usual gruff demeanor.

"We heard yelling, and thought – " Maggie said, her eyes scanning the room.

"Out!" Daryl insisted, waving a wild hand towards the door. "I don't need an audience."

"We don't know if there are any more walkers on this level. What if there are and they heard you?" Maggie continued to argue, not intimidated by him in the least.

"Y' don't see any, do y'?" he snarked. He was trying desperately to ignore Carol's nose nuzzling into his right shoulder blade. It was a miracle their two interlopers hadn't looked down to notice her bare feet mere inches behind his.

"Who were you yelling at anyway?" she asked, again surveying the room.

"None of your damn business."

Glenn's brows rose, his mouth gaping as he noticed Carol's head peeking from behind her enraged beau. He grabbed Maggie's hand after she'd shoved her Beretta into the waistband of her pants. "Yeah … uhm, we'll just be … "

"Glenn," she scoffed, not at all happy about being disturbed after she'd just fallen asleep.

"Later," he whispered furiously.

Carol watched them leave with a bemused smile. The entire group would know before breakfast she'd been found in the shower with Daryl. The second Glenn disappeared through the doorway, her arms slipped around his waist again, and he just knew. "He saw y', didn't he?" he asked, sucking in a ragged breath as her thumbs teased the skin above the towel.

"Yeah … sorry."

He grumbled under his breath. "Doesn't matter. Their little interruption don't change nothin'. Except now they have some nice juicy gossip to go with coffee in the mornin'."

She sighed and rested her cheek against his back, gathering her courage. It amazed her he even wanted to continue the conversation they'd started. "Daryl …"

"No, Carol … don't start."

"You can't ask me not to love you." She pursed her lips. "Not like I'm even asking you to love me back."

His jaw tightened, and he pulled her hands free, stepping away from her. He wouldn't turn to look at her though. He was running again, and she could feel herself losing him.

"You didn't fail me, Daryl." Her voice dropped in register as heartache obstructed her throat. "Or Sophia. You've done nothing but look after me since our first camp. You made me stronger."

"I thought y' died," he whispered, his voice thick, deep, and dark with emotion he wasn't willing to share. "If I hadn't gone with Oscar and Carl to search the lower levels … or found your knife … y' would have died in that cell."

Carol twined her fingers with his and moved to stand before him, holding tight as she reached up to cup his scruffy cheek. "I'm here, Daryl. I'm alive because of you." A single tear tracked through the grime on her face as he turned his lips into her palm and leaned into her touch. "Please don't push me away because you're afraid."

Daryl shook his hand loose from her grip and brought it up to her jaw, taking it in a firm grasp. "I'm not afraid of anything. You're mine to protect, _mine_ to care for, and I'm sick of losing people, Carol," he snarled, reveling in the comforting haze of his anger as it returned to him. But it wouldn't stay … not with those deep azure eyes gazing back at him, so filled with love and desire and yes, hope to chase it away. "I mourned y'. I cain't let y' in so it'll be that much worse next time."

She shrugged her brows and turned her head away from him when he released her. "I die a little each time you leave on a supply run, too, Daryl, but if anything, I've learned from what I went through yesterday when I was so sure I was going to die."

His eyes narrowed on her again as her tone hardened, never having heard her sound like that with anyone aside from her dead husband. "Woman – "

"No, you listen, Daryl Dixon. It's my turn. Someone has always made decisions for me … my parents, my husband, Rick, _you_ , and I'm sick of it. We don't have tomorrow; just today, right now. So I'm glad I finally took a stand and told you how I felt. I lost my family and gained another. I was weak and now I'm strong … -er," she amended ruefully. "I won't give up and I won't stop fighting; for myself _or_ for you. Do with that what you want." She pushed her way past him, bent to retrieve the towel she'd dropped and moved around to the other side of the wall dividing the communal showers. She didn't even look back to see the admiration in his eyes or the little quirk of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

Carol thanked whatever deity might be listening that the cisterns were full of rainwater from the previous night's deluge. Even as low in the bowels of the prison as she'd been, she'd been able to hear the pitter-pat of water against the pipes. She'd heard a great many things, some which she was more than anxious to forget. She fought off a wave of lethargy – a side effect from little food and her bout with dehydration – and trekked to the farthest stall, having no doubt he'd take his anger back to his perch to pout for the remainder of the evening. Always running, he was. Hunting, fighting, protecting the people he cared about … that was his forte, _not_ dealing with his feelings.

She pulled the lever, shivering as the spray rushed out to meet her. It was still warm from the afternoon sun, but nowhere as hot as she'd like. Come summer – if they stayed that long – she'd be, no doubt, wishing for the cool water. Struggling to push her wet pants over her hips, she didn't hear his silent steps until it was too late. Of course, she knew it was him before she glanced back over her shoulder to meet his steady gaze. Even freshly scrubbed, there was no mistaking that earthy smell which seemed to emanate from him. Her gaze became alert, noticing his towel had joined hers draped over the wall. Was he … _oh damn!_ she all but whimpered."Daryl – "

He didn't give her a chance to protest, kicking her wet leggings out of the way and taking one step forward to press himself flush with her back. There was no escape, there never was once he'd set his sights on his prey. One arm snaked around her waist, pulling her in and trapping her against his chest as the other hand rose to take her chin, tilting her head back so she'd be forced to meet his heavy-lidded gaze. His thumb ghosted over her lips, and she could only wish it was his mouth.

"Are y' mad at me?" he asked, his voice carrying none of the rage he'd displayed earlier.

She swallowed thickly as he pressed his brow to her temple, having trouble discerning which was more distracting … the fingers drawing patterns over her belly or the feeling of his calloused thumb tracing her lower lip. "N-No. I really didn't expect you to want me, but I felt I would be cheating us both if I didn't tell you." Her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips, the tip catching his thumb. His eyes bored into hers as they darkened with desire. "I'll always be honest with you."

"Damnit, woman!" he snarled, teeth clenching. He swore inwardly, knowing her low self-esteem stemmed from that worthless bastard she'd been married to. If he weren't a pile of ash, he'd dig up his worthless corpse for the pleasure of killing him again. "How could y' ever think I wouldn't want y'?"

Carol's brows rose as she gave him a pointed look. He could feel the heat rising in his face and ears. "I think you made your feelings for me loud and clear. It's ok, and I under –"

"No, y' don't … or y' shouldn't have to." He pulled her more tightly against him, and he knew she could feel his arousal pressing against her sweet ass. "Does that feel like I don't want y'?" He reached past her, unable to let their distraction in one another cause useless waste, and cut the water. He eyed the bottle of shower gel, and took a tentative sniff. It smelled of peaches and … was that cinnamon? As long as it wasn't too overpowering, and didn't cover up her own unique scent, he didn't care. He lathered his hands and smiled at her soft moans of pleasure as he let his hands run over her curves. "Y' were right, y'know."

"About what?" she breathed, putty in his hands as they kneaded at the kinks in her shoulders and neck. She smiled as he wrestled with the clasp of her bra, his deep voice a heady drug as he grumbled and cursed. He tossed it away in irritation to land atop her pants in a wet heap, and returned to his gentle task of bathing her.

Daryl added more of the sickly sweet-smelling gel to his hands before turning her in his arms to lather her hair. He loved her hair, especially now that it was growing out a bit and he could feel the softness against his fingertips. "About being a coward," he finally answered. "When I thought y' were gone …" He couldn't bring himself to say the word dead. "I don't ever want to feel that way again. It's hard enough to lose one of the others. I cain't lose _you_ again." He cursed himself, disgusted by how raw and open he was, knowing he'd never bare himself to her like this if he hadn't just lost her. Yes, he'd found her, but his emotions had been put through the wringer and he didn't know up from down. All he knew was that she was there, in his arms, so full of life and love and declaring she wanted to be his, to be claimed by _him._ "Y' attract trouble like a fuckin' magnet."

Carol concentrated on his deft fingers working the lather through her hair, squirming against him as his thumbs teased the sensitive flesh behind her ears. "I won't make a promise I can't keep, and neither will you, but I'm yours for as long as we have. I'll learn faster, fight harder … be strong so you won't have to worry as much. And you'll be the one to teach me, just like before."

He switched the water back on and ducked her head under the spray, rinsing away the soap. She sputtered, the droplets running in rivulets down her face. She was squeaky clean, and in his arms, and he wanted … God, he wanted her so much. He buried his nose in the crook of her neck, ignoring the unfamiliar scent as he concentrated on formulating a coherent thought. It was damn near impossible once her slender arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer.

"Is that what you want, Daryl?" she whispered fervently, almost afraid of the answer.

He dragged his tongue over her carotid, pressing the hard tip to the artery with enough pressure to make her gasp. She tasted like heaven and felt like sin. He'd never been a 'church-going' boy to begin with, and Carol didn't seem the type. What kind of god would have allowed her to suffer Ed's abuse for so long?

Daryl had her trapped between the wall and his body, and he had no intentions of ever letting her go. "Want _you_ ; always have," he rasped, his voice hoarse and a bit muffled against the ivory column of her throat as he nipped and teased another moan from her. He could feel the heat of her skin as it flushed a delicate rose, the hue matching her pebbled nipples. He hadn't thought anything could have made her more beautiful in his eyes until he'd borne witness to her now in her passion.

The hand in his hair jerked him back, the pain in his scalp sending a wave of heat sparking along his spine to settle in his lower back and wrap around him, the ache in his groin testament to how long it had been since he'd even wanted to indulge in sex. Before the world had fallen apart, he'd been tired of meaningless trysts or a quick fuck where he'd been able to find it. He'd wanted it to mean something, wanted some kind of connection besides some nameless, faceless floozy behind the local dive bar screaming out the wrong name as she'd come. Why had it taken an apocalypse to find his heart's desire?

She wasn't still while he was lost to his turbulent thoughts, a bundle of nervous energy as his hands skimmed over her flesh. He could feel her vibrating with tension, some of which transferred to him as her hand ventured low over his hip to caress his flank. His chest rumbled with a feral sound, his hands nearly bruising where they tightened on her waist. Her name was forced from his throat as her tongue darted out against his ear and he jerked against her, needing more, needing what only she could give him.

"Shh, I've got you …" she said, promise heavy in the heated whisper which tickled his ear. "Just hold me, Daryl, and don't let go."

As if he could. He needed her like he needed air and he wouldn't fail to do as she commanded. She was begging him to trust her. She might as well have asked for the moon. His gaze found hers as she stared up at him for a long moment, until she apparently found what she needed in his dark eyes, his pupils blown wide with all the desire she'd already wrung from him. And then it was as if a weight had lifted from his chest, making it easier for him to breathe as he realized he _did_ trust her. Not like he trusted Rick to lead them and make the hard decisions, not like he trusted Hershel to guide them with his advice and wisdom, or Glenn and Maggie to watch his back as they fought off another threat with brute strength. No, this was Carol … _his_ Carol, his woman. He trusted her with something more precious, more profound. He trusted her with his heart.

That was what she'd been waiting for, as if she could see the dawning light in his eyes and knew it for what it was … his love for her. She moved slowly now, giving him the ample opportunity to stop her if he wished. But he couldn't fight this thing between them. He wanted it so badly, and it was time to stop pushing her away, to stop denying the feelings which had been building between them since the farm.

Daryl bit the inside of his cheek as her hot little mouth closed over his right nipple, the shockwave of heat shooting straight to his groin, his knees nearly buckling when her hand wrapped around his length. "Fuck, woman! Are y' tryin' to kill me?!" he ground out, bracing one hand against the wall to maintain his balance.

Carol hummed, her fingers moving over him gently, her thumb spreading the small bead of moisture at his tip. Her teeth scraped over his nipple as he thrust into her hand, a steady stream of curses falling from his lips. It had been so long since he'd let anyone touch him, especially there. He'd had no one to rely on for pleasure, nothing other than his own hand for far longer than he could remember. Even if he could, he knew it couldn't compare to the overwhelming pleasure she evoked in him.

Her nails scraped over his ribs, trailing lower over his belly, the muscles quivering and contracting as they clenched in anticipation of his orgasm. How much longer did she expect him to hold on? What did she really want from him, because the slow sweet torture she was slaking from his mortal flesh was nearly more than he could bear. "Carol!" he howled as her wrist gave a particular twist and sent fire crackling along his spine. "Cain't … please!"

She continued to manipulate him, determined to please him, her hand snaking roughly into his hair, her fingers tightening in the strands at his nape and forcing his head up to look at her. "Open your eyes, Daryl," she said. He'd never heard her voice sound so smoky and dark, another surge of lust rippling through him. He felt his balls draw up tightly against his body. _No, not yet … not yet_ , he thought frantically. "Look at me."

He could feel her breath against his lips, his mind barely registering how close she was. _Too close, too real, burrowing her way in._ He couldn't deny her, and pried his eyes open with the last of his restraint, knowing what he'd find there in her gaze would send him down a path of no return. And he was right. He'd never had someone look at him like that before. Love, desire, longing, it was all there, his for the taking.

Carol sped up to match the rhythm of his thrusting hips, his cock, flushed an angry red, impossibly hard in her hands. He was so lost in her, so completely consumed by her, yet helpless and wrecked in her hands. "Come for me, Daryl," she said, his name on her lips the most sensual sound he'd likely ever hear. "I want to see you come."

He let go, grinding his hips into her as he came over her belly, pressing them hard into the tiled wall. He buried his face against the smooth column of her throat, panting against her ivory skin as she held him tightly to her. He couldn't ever remember having a more satisfying sexual experience in his life, nor ever coming so hard. "Carol …"

"Shh, it's ok," she whispered, petting his damp hair.

Daryl cursed himself inwardly, reaching out for the lever to turn the water back on to clean them up. It _wasn't_ ok. She'd gotten him off and he hadn't even kissed her yet. But she was his now, of her own will. She had _chosen_ him. There would be time to show her just how much he cared, and what it was to belong to him.

"I have to go," she groaned, noticing the light fading through the high windows. She didn't want to leave him, not after what they'd just shared. She wanted more, but she wouldn't shirk her duties, determined to do her share. "Beth is going to need help with dinner."

"Y' almost died, Carol. I think Beth will be fine making dinner on her own. Y' can take the night off!"

Carol looked down at her feet as he wrapped a towel about her slender form. "I hadn't meant to be this long in here. I just wanted to shower before coming to thank you for saving me."

Daryl tied the other towel around his hips and followed her out into the changing room, his eyes raking appreciatively over her as she donned her sleeping shorts and peasant top. "I'm glad it didn't go as planned," he murmured as he pulled on a pair of fresh jeans and a threadbare shirt, his vest clasped in his hands as a sly grin teased at the corner of his mouth. He swung the vest over her shoulders and pulled her arms through the holes.

"Daryl, no, I couldn't … everyone will know, and –"

He cut her off with a quick kiss to her lips and led her out of the showers. "Don't care." His grin widened. "And this way _everyone_ will know. Unless you're ashamed of me."

"Of course not." She blushed bright crimson, but was pleased nonetheless that he wanted the others to know about the change in their relationship.

""Sides … this'll spoil Glenn's gossip."

Carol chuckled. "You have guard duty tonight on the tower. Do you want me to bring your dinner when it's ready?"

Just before they entered the cell block, he caught her around her waist and pressed her into the wall, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss which left both of them breathless. "Yes." He trailed hot open-mouthed sin along her jaw, his breath warm against her ear. "And wear the skirt I got ya on that last run me an' Glenn went on before we found this place. The one with the little pink flowers." He nipped her ear with his sharp teeth and turned on his heel, leaving her gaping. He had plans for her.

 **A/N:** Will have the next part up as soon as I can. Feedback is lovely :D


	2. Leaving the Darkness Behind

Chapter Two: Leaving the Darkness Behind

 _Holy shit!_ Carol pressed her hand to her mouth, praying she wouldn't hyperventilate as her breath came out in panicked little gasps. She leaned her head back against the cool wall, her eyes falling shut and her mind filling with images of Daryl. It was surreal, a dream … it had to be. She didn't get to be happy. Her life had been nothing but pain, heartache and abuse. How many times had Ed told her how useless she was … worthless, pathetic, stupid? As much as she loved Daryl, she'd never expected him to want her in return. What if she fucked it up?

Her heart slammed painfully against the wall of her chest as she forced her lungs to do her bidding. She wasn't that woman any longer, she screamed inside her head. He couldn't hurt her any longer. She was strong, resilient, brave. She had a reason to go on in a world turned upside down. And she had Daryl. He'd pushed her, every time she wanted to give up, he'd shown her the faith he had in her that she could go on, she could be brave, she could survive. She wasn't the little mouse who'd cowered before her husband, who'd taken her licks as if she'd deserved them because he'd driven her into the ground with the force of a jackhammer. She was shiny and new. She'd blossomed under Daryl's care. He was her best friend, her savior, and with a little luck, something more.

Carol sighed, relieved as she felt her panic subside. She pushed off of the wall, her legs quaking beneath her. Her body trembled and hummed with unrequited desire, remembering the way Daryl had held her in his arms. Her face flushed, and she bit her lip at the way he'd trusted her to touch him. She shook her head to clear it, making her way to the cell block to change as he'd asked her to do. Her moist palms skimmed lovingly over his vest. Never in a million years would she have thought he'd want to claim her so publicly, but she couldn't say she was disappointed. Not in the least. Her heart had belonged to him almost from the beginning.

Even when she'd been sure he hadn't liked her, he'd watched over her at the quarry camp. Ed hadn't liked it, having to curb his abusive tendencies when he'd noticed the younger Dixon brother glaring at him across the campfire, almost daring him to lay a hand on her. She hadn't been aware of him at first, not until Ed had accused her of 'messing around with the camp trash', as he'd put it. It had been then she'd begun to pay attention, finding his protection made her feel safer when she'd gone about her duties in camp. If Daryl had been there by the lake the day Ed had struck her, he no doubt would have killed him. Shane very nearly had.

Then the farm … he'd taken it on as his own personal mission to find her daughter, and he'd grieved with her when he'd failed. Still, he hadn't allowed her to get close. She'd seen the demons riding him, the pain and sadness in his soft blue gaze, and she'd fallen in love with him a little each day. She hadn't just been _Carol_ to him as she'd been to everyone else. Someone to help with the chores, but otherwise a burden. No, he had _seen_ her. If it hadn't been for him, for his watchful eye nearly always upon her, she would have died on that farm. He'd swooped in like an avenging angel and carried her away on the back of his bike. Face pressed to his back, her slender arms wrapped like a vise about his waist, she'd promised herself not to let him down.

The past winter, Lori had looked on skeptically as Daryl had pressed a gun into Carol's hands, insisting she learn how to defend herself. Rick had asked him outright if he were crazy when he'd given her the knife. She'd silently fumed at their lack of faith in her, but Daryl had been quick to inform the entire group of just how much they had underestimated her.

It was as if her dreams had come true, to have him care for her now as she did for him. She was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for that one cataclysmic event to come and snatch away her happiness.

Carol forced herself to move, wondering how long she'd stood there. Already the twilight was fading into full darkness at the windows. Daryl would be heading out soon to relieve Oscar from guard duty in the tower. She quickened her pace, feeling rather guilty for being late. She still needed to change before she went to their makeshift kitchen to help Beth with dinner. From what she could tell from the fragrant aroma drifting through the cell block, she'd started without her.

"Where've y' been?" Daryl barked, coming out of Carol's cell with an armful of her belongings. "I was about to come lookin' for y'."

Carol hurried to get out of the way as Glenn stepped around him and lugged more of her things upstairs. "I was just … what is going on? Where are you going with my stuff?" Not that she had much, but she wasn't thrilled with the idea of Daryl and Glenn rifling through her things.

His ears turned scarlet as he shuffled his feet slightly, a sure sign of unease. "Uh … I started rethinkin' th' idea of having a cell o' my own. No privacy, an' jus' thought …" Daryl trailed off, distinctly uncomfortable now. "Thought y' would want t' share with me." He cursed under his breath as he watched her brows shoot up towards her hairline. "Unless y' don't want t'."

She didn't answer, excited to see the space he'd chosen. "Which cell did you pick for us? Did you move your stuff already?" she asked, already climbing the stairs.

Daryl stared after her, gob smacked she hadn't upbraided him for assuming she'd want to move in with him just because she'd confessed her feelings for him. By his way of thinking, political correctness flew right out the window when people started eating each other. She was his now, and nothing was more important than her safety and protection, her needs, her desires. "You're not mad?"

Carol chuckled softly as she met his gaze over her shoulder. She stopped midway down the balcony to wait for him, her lower lip disappearing between her pearly teeth. "I was trying to think of a way to ask you to share _my_ cell," she admitted, blushing.

To spare them both the awkwardness growing between them, he slipped past her into the end cell, trying to hide a girn. "Oy! Don't jus' throw her stuff down like that," he scolded Glenn as he took in the mess on the bed.

"I didn't!"

Carol covered her mouth with her hand to hide her amusement as Glenn rolled his eyes and beat a hasty retreat. "You should thank him for helping."

"Yeah … well," Daryl hedged. "What d'you think?"

Her gaze softened as he crossed his arms over his chest, one hand lifted, so he could gnaw on his thumbnail. "Are you sure? I know you don't like to feel confined, Daryl. We could always drag a mattress to your perch."

Daryl snorted, turning away to rummage through their belongings until he located her skirt. "Y' _really_ don't want no privacy, do y'?" He could well imagine what camping out in full view of the group would be like. No thanks. Didn't she know by now he'd sacrifice anything for her?

Quickly, he set his hands – which were a little shaky at this point because of her close proximity – to the task of storing her clothes away in a little chest Carl had found in one of the cells. Even once he'd added his, there was still plenty of room for more. He'd leave the rest for her to sort through and make their cell into a livable space. Women liked to do that, didn't they?

"Daryl … " Her hands were on him, but this time he was able to push back the panic, the voice of his father, his brother at the back of his mind warning him he wasn't good enough for a woman as fine as his Carol. "Are we really together now?" she asked. Her voice, so unsteady and unsure, had him snapping out of his fugue to quickly reassure her.

"We're whatever y' want us t' be Carol, and even if y' …" He swallowed with difficulty around the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. "Even if y' don't want me like that, I still think it's a good idea for me t' stay here with y'. I can protect y' better, y'know." He watched her visibly relax as she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Oscar's alright, I guess, but that other one's a fucking idiot. Never shuts up, an' he's been pantin' after Maggie an' Beth for two days."

Carol burrowed deeper into his embrace as his arms tightened about her, and he was able to breathe a little easier. "I _want_ to be yours. I want to be with you – here – together, just the two of us."

It was what he wanted' too, still feeling as if he should pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He released her, his body having already begun to respond to the husky timbre of her voice, her sweet curves pressed to his harsh angles and her scent buried beneath a layer of peaches and cinnamon. "Alright, woman," he said gruffly, moving towards the open doorway. "I need to check in with Rick, an' then head out t' relieve Oscar. So, get dressed an' I'll walk y' down t' th' kitchen first."

Carol grinned and reached for her skirt, unable to stifle a small giggle as she watched his face suffuse with color.

*.*.*

Daryl went straight to the coffee pot and poured a cupful of the brew. It definitely beat the hell out of the instant crap they'd been drinking. They were lucky they'd found some in the prison stores. That haul had been a blessing. What they'd found in the cafeteria pantry, along with the fresh meat he provided daily, should last them for a while as long as they were able to supplement it on runs. He leaned back against the counter next to the camp stove in the corner and sniffed appreciatively at the pot Beth was stirring.

His watchful gaze never left Carol as she flitted nervously over to the stores and began rifling through them for a loaf of bread to go along with the rabbit stew simmering on the stove. The blush on her cheeks made him smirk, but his woman never faltered. She met Beth's curious questioning glance without flinching, and he was so proud of how far she'd come since the quarry camp.

He'd barely noticed the way conversation had died down in the room, but he'd be damned if he fed the gossip mill. He glanced over at Rick and nodded, happy their leader had finally seemed to man up and come out of the cellar where he'd slowly been falling apart. The ex-cop had his children to think of, not to mention the group in general. There was only so much he and Hershel could do, and decisions needed to be made.

Daryl set his empty cup down next to the wash bin and moved to the table where they all sat. Maggie was the only one not present – still asleep – since she would be on duty to take care of the baby during the night. "How's Lil' Asskicker," he asked, peering over Rick's shoulder at the little bundle.

He cut his eyes at Daryl and shook his head, mumbling under his breath. "I still can't believe you want to name her that."

The hunter scoffed. "Pfft. It's a good name. Carl liked it."

"She's good for now, though I don't know how long the formula will last," Rick answered, glancing up at Daryl, his eyes wide. He wondered just how out of it he'd been not to have noticed the change in his friend's relationship status.

"Someone will have to make another run soon to find more," Hershel added as if nothing was amiss.

Of course, he could always count on Carl to be direct and to the point. "Is Carol your girlfriend now, Daryl?"

He arched a brow at the boy and shot him a level look, letting him think what he would. "I'll check out th' phonebook Maggie found an' see what I can find in th' area," he told Rick. "We were lucky t' find that daycare center."

"Maybe you and Carol could go," he suggested.

Hershel shook his head as Carol made her way to the table with a thermos for Daryl to take with him to the tower. "No, Carol needs t' regain her strength. She should stay close t' th' prison for th' next few days, nothin' strenuous."

"Maggie and I can do it," Glenn piped in, stifling a yawn.

"Where are we going?" his girlfriend asked as she came in, rubbing sleep from her eyes. She went directly to Rick and took the baby from him, cradling the infant girl in the crook of her arm. "Hi, sweetheart," she cooed softly.

"Another run for baby formula."

"And I can make a list of things we might need to supplement our kitchen stores. I can think of several just off the top of my head," Carol said, reaching for the pad and pencil sitting in the center of the table.

Daryl relaxed a bit, seeing for himself the group wouldn't be hounding Carol about being with him. He shot her a small smile as she looked up at him, and he could note the relief on her lovely face. Turning to take his leave, he nearly collided with Oscar – whose shift was over – and the irritating ginger convict for which he had no tolerance. His gaze narrowed, following the man all the way to the table where Axel sat down. He wondered if he should stay, but Carol would accuse him of hovering and being overprotective, and he really didn't want to put a damper on their evening.

But he needn't have worried. Carol was more than capable of taking care of herself; he'd made sure of it. Her reassuring smile put him at ease, but he still dragged his feet out to the tower.

Maggie ushered Carol over to a quiet corner, away from the men. She was bursting with questions and it was a struggle to keep the excitement from her voice. "What's going on? Why are you wearing Daryl's vest? Are you together? When did this happen – "

"Maggie, slow down," Carol chuckled. "Yes, we're together, and I'm wearing his vest because he wants everyone to _know_ we're together."

The young woman looked at Carol as if she'd grown another set of ears. "Wow! I just never expected him to so publicly claim you. You're ok with this?"

Carol smiled sheepishly. "Yeah … I am. Daryl has always held a special place in my heart. It's more than the two of us being part of the core group. He was there for me when I felt like I was alone … completely alone … after I lost my husband." She stared over the girl's shoulder at a mundane spot on the wall, trying to fight back the fear and anguish she'd lived with at the beginning. "Have you ever been in a crowded room and felt alone, unwanted and unloved?"

Maggie cast her a sympathetic look. "No, I can't say I have."

"Daryl has, same as me. I guess the reason we became such good friends, is because we recognized a shared pain. We were able to build on that."

"That and you don't take any of his crap."

Carol chuckled. "Yeah. We grew closer when he was trying so hard to find Sophia."

Maggie shifted the baby in her arms and shushed her softly as she whimpered. "We could all see how much you cared for one another, Carol. I'm so happy y'all found a way to be together." She paled suddenly, her eyes widening. "It was _you_ he was yelling at in the showers!"

Carol blushed, pursing her lips. "Guilty. I wanted to take a shower and then go talk to him, thank him for saving me … again. I didn't expect to find him there."

"He sounded so angry."

"Livid," she affirmed, fidgeting with a button on his vest. "But we worked it out, and now here we are." As much as she enjoyed having Maggie to confide in, she wasn't about to share the intimate details with her. She still felt invisible sometimes, still felt alone amidst the group. It was only with Daryl she felt she could be herself. She wondered if she'd ever get over the feelings of inadequacy Ed had beaten into her over the years.

"Dinner's ready," Beth announced, ladling stew into several bowls. Carol couldn't resist pressing a kiss to the baby's downy hair as she rose from the table, and after bidding Maggie goodnight, she fixed a bowl of stew for her and Daryl and made her way to the door.

*.*.*

Carol smiled tightly at her _escort_. It was the first time she'd had the opportunity to meet the two men who'd been liberated from the cafeteria – the ones to survive at least – due to her stint in solitary where she'd been trapped. Oscar seemed nice, shy and friendly. She was certain he would fit in with the group if given a decent chance. But Axel … she was less than impressed with his outgoing nature. She could easily see why Daryl was so leery of him. The ginger-haired man reminded her of that loud cousin – every family had one – who wanted to be the center of attention, letting his sense of humor and willingness to please gain them acceptance from their loved ones. The others brushed him off as harmless, but she had to agree with Daryl. She didn't like the way he stared at Beth and Maggie. He'd been locked up for a long time apparently, his crime not as heinous as most, so, of course, he'd be seeking female companionship in any of its forms. And now he'd seemed to have set his sights on her since he'd been informed she wasn't a lesbian.

It was a surefire way to get a bolt in his skinny ass, she thought silently as he walked beside her. She would hope he'd take the hint and leave her be, take his stories with him back to the prison, but it seemed he'd have to learn the hard way. She wasn't worried for her own safety. Before she'd left the cell block, she'd made sure to stow her Beretta in her bag and clip her holstered knife to her belt. She was determined to be more diligent with her own safety after seeing the grief Daryl had suffered. She couldn't be responsible for such pain again if she could help it.

"You really didn't have to accompany me down here," Carol murmured petulantly, shifting the bowls in her grip as the fingers of her other hand tapped against the handle of her knife. Her gaze steadily surveyed her surroundings, including the man next to her, refusing to allow herself to be caught off guard.

"It's no trouble, ma'am."

She suppressed a groan. Even the man's voice seemed to grate on her nerves. If he remained here with them, she would undoubtedly get used to it, but seeing as her stomach was already filled with butterflies the size of condors and her skin hummed with unrequited desire, he was a bit much to take in.

"… and before this I was pulling jobs with …"

 _Gawd! I don't care!_ Carol tried to tune him out, and hurried her steps. Maybe he'd eventually take the hint. Before she'd taken five steps, a bolt from Daryl's crossbow hit the gravel path between them, sending the ex-convict skittering off to the left, his arms covering his head as he looked around in alarm.

Her azure gaze drifted up the length of the tower where her hunter stood on the catwalk which wound around the square structure. Daryl was livid, the crossbow now pointing harmlessly skyward. Frankly, she was more worried about his temper. He was rather famous for his lack of control in that respect.

Axel stared in horror at Daryl as he began to make his way down the stairs. "You coulda shot me, man!"

Carol went over to lend him a hand in regaining his feet. "No, if he'd meant you harm, he wouldn't have missed. That was a warning shot." She gave him her back, turning to watch as Daryl bounded down the steps, his tread nearly silent. His snarling countenance threatened violence, and she knew it would be up to her to head off what was sure to be an ugly confrontation. The calm hunter was taking the night off. This was his alpha male swagger, and if she were to be honest, she had to admit it was turning her on.

"Th' fuck y' doin' here?" he growled, pointing the crossbow at Axel. "Jus' 'cause Rick's letting y' stay in D block don't mean y' can have free reign with our women." He reached out with his free hand and pulled Carol behind him, nudging her back towards the staircase. "They're under our protection. Don't lemme catch y' with _any_ of them again. We clear?!"

Axel – his hands already in the air in a gesture of surrender – started inching backward in the direction from which they'd come. "Sure thing! I swear I didn't mean nothin' by it," he said, trying to placate Daryl and praying he wouldn't get shot in the process.

"G'on … git!" Daryl didn't turn back to the stairs until the man had run off towards the prison. He'd be sure to have a word with Rick – and maybe Hershel and Glenn too – about that man. It wasn't as if he were jealous or anything … was he? No, that was insane. He glanced over his shoulder as he climbed the stairs to make sure the scrawny ginger fucker didn't come back.

Carol was waiting for him at the top of the stairs, a patient smile on her pretty mouth. Daryl blushed to the roots of his hair. Her head tilted to the side as she regarded him. "Come on, Pookie, before your dinner gets cold."

"Stop," he scoffed at the name she'd begun calling him when they'd been fighting to survive the winter, following her into the main guard room of the tower through the trap door. He took the bowl containing his dinner and hopped up to sit on the table situated in the corner. "And I'm not jealous," he mumbled around his first spoonful, trying to convince himself more than her.

"What was that?" she asked, leaning a hip against the table next to him.

He cast her a sideways glance at her smirking mouth. "What were y' doin' out there with him, anyway? Did y' even bring your gun?"

"Of course," she said, patting the messenger bag hanging off her shoulder. Carol dipped the crust of her bread into the thick savory broth Beth had made from Carol's own recipe and took a bite. "He insisted on walking me out here. I told him it wasn't necessary, but he refused to listen."

Daryl wolfed down his food and set his bowl aside, taking up his treasured weapon as he hopped down from the table to make a circuit on the catwalk. "He'll listen once I shoot his ass fulla bolts." One glance back over his shoulder before he exited the room had him frowning. She was picking at her food just as she always did as if it held little interest for her. "An' clean that bowl, woman, before I get back."

Finishing her meager meal – though it was more than she'd had in a long while – she stacked her bowl atop his and squinted into a darkened corner. Only a three-quarter moon offered its light to see by, and the pale moonbeams just weren't enough for her to see by. She could barely make out one of the camping lanterns sitting on a shelf next to the bank of open windows, thankful for the screens to keep the bugs away. A smirk curved one side of her mouth as she turned it on and took in the mattress – which had been pilfered from one of the many empty beds – and toted up to the tower. She knew Glenn and Maggie had been sneaking off up there to have 'alone' time, but it was now made up with the blankets from _her_ bed and Daryl's own pillow.

Having served with him on watch only once before she'd been trapped in solitary, it was enough to know it would be awhile until he allowed himself to relax. Just in the time since she'd settled herself on the makeshift bed, he'd made three circuits around the catwalk, his ever-watchful eyes scanning the tree line, the fence, the area leading into the prison from the former exercise yard, searching out any weak spots.

Carol leaned back against the wall, stretching her legs out before her. She had a clear view of the fences from her reclined position. It hadn't been this comfortable last time, and wondered whose idea it had been to haul the spare mattress up to the tower … Glenn's or Maggie's. It would have been so easy to just let the lassitude in her muscles to win and pull her down into a peaceful slumber, but her mind wouldn't allow her to rest, too anxious to know Daryl's intentions. With every step of his booted feet, she could practically feel the tension radiating from him.

Her fierce protector was as skittish as a newborn colt when it came to his feelings. The hunter becoming the hunted. Which was why it surprised her to see him sigh in resignation and turn towards the door to lead him back inside. Setting the crossbow against the doorframe, he wiped his palms against his pants, his gaze hidden behind his fringe of dark bangs. She held her tongue, as she did so often with him when he seemed on edge, giving him time to decide what he wanted.

 **A/n:** I really hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. Thank you so much to all of you who gave this story a second go and left me a lovely little comment. I cannot express how much I adore my beta. After spending two hours editing yesterday, she swooped in like an avenging angel and found a heap ton of stuff I missed. BettyBubble, you are my hero, darling! Note to self: Do NOT try to edit when children are in your face!


	3. Safe in your Arms

Chapter Three: Safe in your Arms

 **Warning for adult themes … reader discretion is advised.**

Finally, he sat down beside her and kicked off his boots, leaning back against the wall so his shoulder lightly brushed hers. "Glenn has th' north tower. He jus' went down to walk th' fence," he said roughly as if searching for something to say. "'S easier t' have someone on both towers at night. Hershel agrees with me."

Carol nodded, barely able to make out the other man as he walked the fence, his rifle pointed at the ground. "And why wouldn't he? He tends to take your advice seriously, and trusts your judgement."

Daryl basked in the warmth of her praise, and allowed himself to relax a little more. He slipped his left arm about her waist and pulled her into him, angling himself so her back would rest against his chest. "This ok?" he asked, his chin coming to rest against her shoulder. "I swear this isn't why I asked y' up here. Jus' wanted t' spend some time with y'."

She sank deeper into his embrace, wondering if the smile would ever leave her face. "I know you, Daryl; I know how you are with your grief. It was the same when we lost … Sophia," she said, her voice breaking painfully on her daughter's name. "I want to be with you, too."

His arms tightened around her, his face pressed against the smooth ivory column of her throat. God, how he loved her. Why was it so hard to tell her? Because he was afraid, a little voice whispered, afraid of losing what he loved most in the world. "I don't want things t' change … don't want _us_ t' change."

He felt her tense, and already he knew he'd screwed it up when he heard her say, "We don't have to. We can go back to just being friends if that's what you want." She sounded so sad and forlorn, it nearly splintered his heart.

"No." He shook his head in earnest, the scruff on his chin brushing against her smooth skin, leaving a faint red mark, _his_ mark. Something deep within him purred in satisfaction. "I want y' t' be mine, Carol. I jus' … I'm really no good at this."

Her hands rose to cover his where they rested against her belly, giving a reassuring squeeze. "You're perfect."

"Pfft!" he scoffed, color riding high in his cheeks. He was thankful her back was to him and she couldn't bear witness to his embarrassment. He watched her hand drift carefully to his jeans-clad knee, unable to quell the involuntary flinch at her touch. A sharp intake of breath, his hands splaying wide over her belly, his lips at her ear and he was relaxing, an unfamiliar sense of peace, of being, washing over him.

Only she knew how to touch him without making his fight or flight instinct kick in. She was the balm to his soul he needed so desperately. Even when she'd touched him earlier in the shower, he'd been able to bury the panic he'd felt and derive pleasure from her caress. Now, as her fingertips drew light circles on the inside of his knee, he could feel his body surging back to life with something not remotely akin to fear, panic or any of the other debilitating feelings he was used to experiencing when someone got too close.

His breath was warm as his lips grazed the sensitive flesh below her ear, causing her to shiver. "D'you have any idea how it makes me feel t' see y' wearin' my gift … my vest? To know our _family_ knows you're mine now? That they know I'm yours?"

She arched into his hand as it slowly trekked upward over her ribs, her breasts, her collarbone, until he was able to grip her chin, tilting her face up to his. Her nails dug into the stiff denim of his jeans as her hand met his inner thigh, and he could feel the hardening of his flesh, the need to claim her nearly overwhelming. His thumb caressed the smooth curve of her jaw as he lowered his head to hers, his lips brushing hers, wanting, needing to taste her. It was soft, sweet, the way a first kiss should be, and better than anything he'd ever encountered before … or ever would again. But then she was pulling away from him, and his joy – that rare fleeting glimpse of what happiness could be had – plummeted into despair.

The reassuring smile on her lips went unseen as Daryl's gaze dropped to his lap and his hands fell to his sides on the mattress, giving her the opportunity to leave him, and her heart broke for him. His entire body trembled with his insecurity. She knew how hard it was for him to trust her, to lay himself bare, and she would _not_ take it for granted. Carol laid a hand to his cheek, reveling in the scratch of his scruff against her palm. She was rewarded with his lovely eyes rising to meet hers, hope in their depths.

She rose to her knees, and threw one leg overs his, straddling his hips as she settled onto his lap. There was always that question in her eyes, a silent communication between them asking if he were alright, needing to know the desire was mutual. His head fell back against the wall as her fingertips trailed over his tanned throat and over his shoulders, kneading but gentle as they moved over his arms until finally, she circled his wrists and brought his hands to rest upon her hips.

Daryl watched her every move through sloe-lidded eyes, promise in his cobalt orbs as he seemed to come to life. His bruised and battered hands, scarred from so many battles both past and present, bunched the thin muslin of her skirt, dragging her closer. There was no way she could stifle the wanton moan tearing from her throat as he pulled her against his erection.

His moan met hers in return and she took a shuddering breath. "Too much? Tell me to stop and I will, baby … I promise," she whispered against his lips.

Daryl shook his head adamantly. "Hell no!" he growled. "Want this … _you_." His hands trailed over her back, tracing the outline of the wings on his vest until he reached her nape. He shuddered as she rocked her hips gently against him, his cock twitching in appreciation as it pressed against his zipper.

She held his gaze, going to the buttons of the sleeveless navy flannel he wore, beginning to uncover her prize. His flesh tensed with every brush of her clever fingers, but not out of fear or panic. Now there was only room for pleasure between them. It was written in every line of his face, causing her heart to swell with happiness she'd caused him to look like that.

A hand curled over her nape, blunt nails scraping across her scalp, dragging her forward for the heated brush of his lips. She moaned, her head swimming with passion, her hands trapped between them over his bare skin. Her lips parted as his hot tongue glided softly over her lower lip, begging for entry which she couldn't deny him. He left not a single spot unexplored in the dark honeyed cavern of her mouth, and the more he kissed her, the more she just wanted him to lay her down on her back and ease the throbbing between her legs. She wanted to be filled with him, to have his cock buried within her, imitating the slow thrusting of his tongue.

Daryl dragged his mouth from hers when the need to breathe became too much, and pushed the vest from her shoulders, letting it fall back to the mattress. He mapped a path of slow open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, his tongue darting out to taste the sweet salty tang of her skin. His touch was feather-light as he tugged the elastic neckline of the pale pink peasant top down on her upper arms so he could worship the light scattering of freckles across her shoulders and collar bone. She was exquisite, and for a moment he wondered if he could count each one with the tip of his tongue, just so he could hear her moan and sigh his name in abandon.

He forced his eyes open as his fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, seeking her permission. He knew her clothes had been a sore subject in the past. He'd hated the frumpy clothes her bastard husband had made her wear, hiding her lovely curves behind unflattering styles and at least a size too large for her. No doubt to hide her bruises and scars. Now he made sure – each time he went on a run – to look for soft fabrics and muted - though attractive - colors which would complement her fair skin but still practical enough for her to fight off walkers.

A ragged moan burst from his parted lips as he whipped the peasant blouse over her head to reveal even more of her perfect skin to his view, longing and unrequited desire in the deep pools of his eyes. A soft sigh from his beloved woman, and her hands were roaming again, her nails scraping deliciously across his nipples, her hips rocking more steadily against his groin. If she continued on this path, he'd be coming in his jeans like a randy inexperienced schoolboy. His arms crushed her to him. "Be still, woman!" he barked gruffly, burying his face against her throat.

Carol giggled, her breath uneven and labored, equally affected by his ministrations. "Sorry," she mumbled unrepentantly. She leaned in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I've just wanted you for so long, Daryl, and now that I can touch you …"

 _Was she kidding?!_ he thought, his lips worrying at the crook of her neck. Her soft skin yielded easily beneath his mouth as he increased the pressure of his lips, his teeth scraping gently. He could feel her skin heat as a rosy flush spread over her chest, spreading over her neck as it climbed into the apples of her cheeks. His touch was gentle as his hands climbed a sensuous path over her spine until he could curl his hands over her shoulders, holding her firmly against his chest. Her breasts pressed against his chest, skin to skin, that single intimate touch giving weight to his consciousness, helping to assure him and ground him in reality. This wasn't one of his many dreams, and he wondered if he would perish from the sheer beauty of what they shared.

His lips trailed a path of fire, his teeth leaving little red marks on her pale skin, kissing and nipping with increased ardor, reveling in the sharp keening she made as he nuzzled in the valley between her breasts. Releasing his hold on her shoulders, his nails scraped over her back tenderly, causing her to arch into him. He held tightly to her waist for a moment, fighting to catch his breath as he moved slowly upwards over her ribs, his thumbs teasing at the undersides of her breasts before he cupped the mounds in his callused hands, her turgid nipples pressing into his palms.

He rubbed his face against them, the scruff on his chin and cheeks a delightful abrasion, the friction causing her to toss her head back and cry out … and all the while he _burned_.

Carol bit her lip, trying to hold in the piece of her soul fighting to escape, that piece of her yearning to join with his in a riot of breathy moans. She knew the need for quiet in a world gone to hell, but as the heat of his mouth, the rasp of his tongue and the pure exquisite pleasure of her nipple being pressed to the roof of his mouth overwhelmed every sense of her being, her voice made itself clear, his name echoing off the tin roof. Her fingers coiled into the silken strands of his hair, clenching, tightening, holding him to her as he growled against her flesh until she wasn't sure she'd be able to take much more.

Her belly contracted as his work-roughened hand splayed over its concave surface, the fire of her arousal burning hotly in her womb. "Daryl, please," she whimpered. Oh, how she hated the sound, hated this weakness she had only for him, yet knowing she'd sooner die than give him up.

"Again …" he murmured, the vibration of his gravelly voice against her only increasing the ache she harbored between her legs. "Beg me. I need t' hear it, Carol."

 _Sweet Jesus!_ How far gone was he that he would make himself so vulnerable to her, to let her in on his most secret desire to be so needed, so wanted. "Please … please, baby, I need you … only you." Both of her hands curled around his neck, her thumbs pressing gently just beneath his chin, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "I've always needed you."

The fire between them burned hotter than ever, threatening to consume them both as lips crashed together, tongues dueled and wills clashed, each fighting for control. And then he stilled, time stopping for him as her hands slipped between them to wrestle with the buckle of his belt. His eyes flew wide to take in her heated stare, fear there as she waited for him to stop her.

The cold hand of dread reached in to squeeze her heart as she realized what she was doing. Carol had learned to manipulate Ed with sex early on, forestalling more than one beating as he'd given in to other passions. It had left her feeling dirty and cheap, but nothing more than a means to an end, a tool in her need for self-preservation. Now, moments away from finally having the man she loved, old ghosts rose to take away her joy.

Daryl's brow furrowed, a frown settling between his brows as his woman seemed to shrink into herself. He knew that look and could feel her pain as if it were his own. One hand settled lightly on her hip, the other on her chin as he brushed at her trembling lower lip with his thumb. "What's th' matter? Tell me what's wrong," he demanded, his voice gentle and coaxing.

She could see the fear of rejection in his eyes, giving her the strength to bury her past where it belonged, where it couldn't hurt her. Daryl was her present, her future, and she wouldn't allow anything to stand in the way of their happiness in one another. "Nothing," she whispered into the stillness which had fallen over the room, offering him a watery smile. "Sometimes old fears just like to rear their ugly heads when you least expect them."

Grasping her tightly about her waist, he rolled them. Carol sighed as he settled next to her and pressed his brow to hers, his nose nuzzling hers tenderly. "I'd never hurt y', woman, an' I'll be damned if I let anyone else try." His fingers drew patterns against the back of her knee as he pulled her leg up to curl over his hip, a smirk blooming on his lips as he felt her delicate skin pimple with gooseflesh from his intimate touch. "The past can only hurt y' if you let it. _You_ told me that." She shivered, melting into his chest as his other arm wrapped about her, gathering her closer. "Don't let 'im win, Carol."

His tongue swiped languorously over her lower lip, his teeth following its path, nipping carefully as he stoked the fire. She knew he suffered from his own demons, and for him to comfort her through hers … it assured her he would be there through it all, whatever may come. The button on her skirt popped free beneath his questing fingers, her zipper slowly slid over her hip, and the soft garment was tugged down and off, baring her completely to his wide-eyed gaze. She blushed crimson as he blinked owlishly.

"Where're your drawers, woman?" he growled, and not in a good way. "Y' walked all th' way out here with fuckin' Axel without a stitch under this skirt?" He shook the flowy muslin at her before tossing it over his shoulder.

She smirked and ran the flat of her palm from his shoulder to the happy little line of hair which disappeared below his waistband. "Well, I wasn't exactly thinking of Axel when I made the decision, Pookie," she snarked, reveling in the shudder which snaked through him.

Daryl dropped his head to her belly with a groan from the sheer unadulterated lust in her smoky tone. "I always knew you'd be th' death o' me," he stated, his voice muffled as he pressed a kiss to her navel.

Carol reached up and pushed his open shirt over his shoulders, touching him with measured strokes until she finally reached for the button on his jeans. It didn't take her long to get him just as gloriously naked as she. He ducked his head, heat suffusing his face and spreading to his ears, but Carol's grip on his arms was firm as she guided him back over her to settle in the vee of her thighs. She found his lips in the waning light, kissing him deeply before he could shy away or retreat into the shell he used to hide himself away. He felt vulnerable without his armor. She knew it – she shared it – just as she tried to push her own self-proclaimed inadequacies aside.

He broke the kiss, eyes dark, muscles tensing as he reached beneath a corner of the mattress and brought out a small foil packet. Before he could tear it open, she stopped him. "You don't have to. I-I can't … I'm unable to …" She swallowed thickly, old wounds reopening. "Ed made sure I couldn't have any more children. I nearly lost Sophia. So …"

"Fuckin' hell," he growled in horror, his arms tightening about her, pulling her into himself to offer what comfort he could. "Carol –"

But she wouldn't let it ruin what they had between them. _Don't let him win._ She fisted her hands in his dark hair and slanted her lips over his, taking from him and giving in return, everything she felt to the depths of her soul a gift to him. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the backs of his thighs, urging him forward, needing to feel him fill her, wanting to strengthen the love which had been between them almost from the beginning. "Daryl, please …"

He groaned, his brow pressing to hers as he slowly slid into her heat. Her body tensed, muscles seizing as she anticipated the pain. There had always been pain. She couldn't look at him, in spite of knowing those dark brows had to be furrowed in confusion. He stilled, concern for her preventing him from going further despite his need to move. "What's wrong?" he asked, his fingers grazing her cheekbone, doing his level best to open her eyes.

She couldn't answer, pleasure washing over her as she wriggled beneath him, trying to pull his cock deeper into her molten core. Her movements threw him off balance and succeeded in giving her what she wanted, seating him fully within her. Her breath hitched as her eyes filled with tears behind her closed lids.

Daryl reached out with a shaking hand, his fingers coming away from her face wet with her tears. "Carol … oh, fuck; did I hurt y'?" he asked, slightly panicked.

Carol laughed in disbelief as her watery eyes opened to meet his. "No … that's just it."

"What?" he growled, clenching his jaw as the need to thrust became nearly unbearable. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had sex, and having the woman he _loved_ wriggling beneath him was putting his control through the wringer. The thought he might have hurt her tempered his desire, but as she smiled up at him with that radiant grin she reserved specifically for him, felt her inner walls clench around him, his arousal grew painful.

"It didn't hurt, Daryl," she whispered, awestruck. She canted her hips down, keening softly as the action slowly made him withdraw, the slow slide of his cock in her making bright pinpoints of light burst behind her eyes. "You feel so amazing. I never knew it could be like this."

 _Jesus fuck!_ He stared down at her in horror, his poor damaged love. She'd been so broken; it was a wonder she'd ever been able to piece herself back together. Not for the first time, he wished Ed Peletier were still alive just so he could have the immense satisfaction of killing him slowly. His jaw clenched, fire crackling at the base of his spine as she canted her hips forward and then slowly pushed back, sheathing him in her heat again.

Daryl held her gaze, promise alight in his eyes. "Not s'pposed t' hurt."

Carol didn't give him a chance to say anything else, pulling his lips down to hers for a lingering kiss. He let his hand smooth over her side, her hip, rubbing in soothing circles as he explored her velvety mouth, losing himself in the bliss of his woman. It took a strength of will he hadn't known he possessed, but he waited patiently for her body to let him know when she was ready. He braced himself on his left arm where it rested under her head, and wrapped the other tightly around her waist, lifting her hips to the perfect angle as he gave in to that first gentle thrust. Had anything ever felt so right for him as being joined to her, the slow withdrawal and quick return, her silken heat so tight around his swollen cock, or the way she keened as he bumped her clit with each inward motion?

He felt as though he were drowning, unable to look away from the deep swirling pools of her eyes. They sucked at his soul, pulling him deeper, telling him he was loved, cherished, and he never wanted to look away. Her arms banded about him, her blunt nails raking a trail of fire over his back, urging him to move faster, drive harder. And he wanted it all, wanted everything she was, everything she wished to give of herself. He didn't want to be alone anymore merely surviving. He wanted to _live._

"Carol!" he ground out, his teeth gnashing to help him maintain the last shred of his control. Already, he could feel her fluttering walls around his cock and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. "Tell me … I need t' hear y' say it."

She clung to him, his name a reverent whine on her lips. "I love you … I'm yours." She sobbed into the crook of his neck, tears spilling over her lashes as she broke apart. "Daryl!"

He buried his face against her shoulder as he followed her over the edge, moaning deeply as she milked him dry. Boneless, sated and blissful, he collapsed atop her, cradling her face in his warm palms as he dropped little sipping kisses to her lips, his hips continuing a slow rock against hers. "Mine …" he breathed, pressing his brow to hers, reluctant to lose their connection.

Carol grinned smugly as he rolled to her side and pulled her against his chest. "I always have been. You just weren't ready to see it."

Daryl grunted in response, feeling the fool that it had taken almost losing her to admit to himself how much he loved her. He reached for the blanket, tucking the corner over her shoulder, happy to just hold her until it would be his turn to walk the perimeter and ensure their safety, content to listen to her slow even breaths. His fingers toyed with the soft strands at her nape, trailed over her arm and back again over and over, the touch reassuring him it hadn't been one of his fantasies.

He pressed a kiss to her brow, staring out through the screened windows at the prison they now called home. There was no such thing as safety anymore, only the illusion. But for the time being, they had a chance, one he'd do anything in his power to protect. He looked down, a wealth of love for her making his chest hurt, and he couldn't hold back another second. Time was a commodity in short supply.

"I love y'," he said, less than a whisper of sound leaving his parted lips. Perhaps he'd find the courage to tell her again when she was awake and could appreciate the words he'd found so hard to voice.

Carol smiled and tightened her arms around him, not quite as asleep as he'd thought. "I love you, too, Pookie."

 **A/n: Thank you all so much for reading. I really hope y'all enjoyed it. I appreciate all the kind reviews and support. Y'all don't know how much I adore each and every one of you. Great big shoutout for my darling beta, BettyBubble. If you haven't read her works, you're missing out.**


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